


you are the silence in between

by rellanim



Category: Buzz (Korea Band), Super Junior, 아는 형님 | Knowing Bros | Ask Us Anything
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-03-26 01:35:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13847301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rellanim/pseuds/rellanim
Summary: Min Kyunghoon was in the winter of his life when he met Kim Heechul.(A Falling Blossoms MV-inspired fic)





	1. Chapter 1

And then Kyunghoon found himself here again. The ending of this winter was silent; the wind was humming with gradual wakefulness as the cold remained clinging to skin despite the sun. The house where he stayed standing was still, its structure was traditional and humble—a space in the middle for open air and little rocks and swaying plants. It was a lovely home, quite the same as the one he lived in when he was a child with a complete family.

His feet were rooted and he tried not to stray his thoughts beyond anything he saw—he didn’t expect to be here again after the first time. But he didn’t know how to stay away.

A tap on his shoulder and Kyunghoon looked at his sister who was standing beside him, contentedly waiting in silence.

_Oppa._

Jisun signed. Her hands were graceful as she called him through a hand motion. His younger sister smiled, strands of her hair were picked up by the blowing wind. She looked like their mother especially when her eyes became warm browns and her lips curved gently like soft fabric. Sometimes, it hurt to look at her for more than five seconds.

_It’s okay if you want to go now._

Kyunghoon nodded, ignoring the sudden disappointment of not being able to see him again.

 _Oppa will come back for you later_. He signed, his hands still timid with memorized motions. He hated it when he forgot them, these motions he learned with terrible progress and hurried patience just to communicate with his only family.

Jisun replied in quiet acquiescence, her eyes lifting when she saw someone coming. It was Kim Misun, the ahjumma whom she met in the nearby grocery store and asked her to help her son with his sign language. At first Kyunghoon was in doubt—the son was older than him but he wasn’t fluent? But Jisun longed to be useful and busy and Kyunghoon’s running out of excuses, so he conceded.  

Misun treated her son with perfected care coupled with over-worrying and implied fragility despite her son’s matured age of 27. But he knew she was blameless, for a single mother to raise a disabled child wasn’t an easy feat. He knew by experience how difficult it was to make his sister feel she was a person beyond the muteness, and not to hurt her without pity and regret.

Sooner, he found out that Kim Heechul was a different case.

Misun welcomed his sister with a sunny smile and a friendly hug and extended her welcome to Kyunghoon who wanted to shy away from her attention—his mother’s hugs were warm as the start of summers—but still managed to look polite.

Misun went back inside for a second and when she came out, she was with her son, _him_ , Kim Heechul. He was dressed warmly, colors huge and clashing, the tips of his finger peeking from his long sleeves. His face was clear and youthful, his hair framing it with natural curls. Heechul’s catlike eyes stayed at him after he greeted Jisun with a wide smile.

Kyunghoon wanted to look away, but the sunlight was kissing Heechul’s pink cheeks, the wind was brushing his hair and his smile was beautiful—Kyunghoon could feel the coldness leaving his constitution and his chest constricted in a sudden unsleep.

Heechul signed his name, his fingers were long and graceful and Kyunghoon could almost hear him speak. Heechul walked towards him and held both of his hands. Kyunghoon let him and felt him leave a small paper in his right hand before he released his hold and signed, _Your hands are cold._

Heechul then gestured his sister to come inside which the latter did, bidding Kyunghoon one last glance to say goodbye. And the three of them, including Misun, left him to go.

Kyunghoon’s gaze was still pinned to where he last saw him, wanting to linger longer but couldn’t for he needed to be somewhere in the late morning. Without a sound, he went outside and braved the biting cold, his hand crumpling the note inside.

As he turned to the next street, he finally opened it and read.

 _*_ _다리가_ _걷지_ _않는_ _것은_ _무엇인가_ _?_

_(What is a leg that doesn’t walk?)_

_Saturday, 10 am._

-

The bridge, three streets away from Kyunghoon’s house, was short and old, though its age continued to conquer time as it lie over their town’s small river in an unwavering slumber. Kyunghoon stood at the center, his hands cold inside his thick, black parka. It was already 10 in the morning and he felt hesitant by simply waiting, asking himself if he should encourage whatever this was.

In the end, he didn’t reach an answer as someone tapped him left arm.

It was Kim Heechul. He was dressed in a similar parka with a thick, red scarf wounded tightly in his neck. He was smiling at Kyunghoon, his eyes twinkling with delight as he signed.

_Good answer._

Kyunghoon chuckled a little, nodding. He removed his hands from his pocket and motioned. Heechul’s note was easy and even though he’s quite slow, he knew that the answer was in the question.   _Do you like riddles, hyung?_

 _Please don’t call me hyung._ Heechul replied. _You look older than me, Kyunghoon. Yes. I like riddles._

If Heechul could speak, Kyunghoon could imagine how witty he would sound because he was, just with his gestures.

 _I know._ He replied and because he couldn’t help himself he continued. _Is that why you’re interested in me? Because I’m—_

 _Riddle._ Heechul motioned and grabbed his right halted hand and tugged him to start walking towards anywhere.

-

The first time Kyunghoon saw Heechul, it was in the peak of this same bridge. The autumn. He was looking quietly on the river, his eyes glassy and faraway, his exhales were kissing the air in constant puff. He looked sad and Kyunghoon knew sadness like the back of his hand ever since the day it knocked over his parents’ dead bodies and ate away the future happiness which was promised to him.

_“Kyunghoon-ah, what do want to be when you grow up?”_

_“A doctor! I will cure my sister!”_

_Years passed._

_“Mom, I want to sing.”_

_“Is that what you really want to do?”_

_“Don’t worry, once I’m famous, you and dad won’t ever have to work again. And I’ll take care of Jisun, of course, she says I’m great. Never mind she cannot hear me.”_

_A car accident, a broken guitar and a recluse sister wrote the winter of that year and Kyunghoon felt the stars laughing at him for being dead inside as they were._

So he walked near, his feet drawing him to something he recognized. Heechul’s hair was longer then, his skin paler too and he glanced at Kyunghoon curiously when he came nearer.

Silence reigned far too long and Kyunghoon didn’t know anything, didn’t know why he started but he said, “I’m sorry. It’s just you look sad.”

Heechul’s frown deepened and sighed with quietness he also recognized. _Oh._

Heechul pointed at his lips and shook his head, the action rehearsed and lazy as if he’s spent decades repeating it and was tired of trying to explain to people who didn’t want to understand. Kyunghoon was tired too but unlike other people, he could try to understand the way he’s doing so since he was sixteen.

He signed, _Sorry. You are sad,_ and smiled at Heechul’s surprise, his eyes were tinted with a little glow and Kyunghoon felt accomplished somehow.

 _I’m okay._ Heechul replied, his hands curling and drawing in the air as he continued, _You? Are you okay?_ He pointed at the cut in his lips, probably still burning red, and now that he became conscious of it again, he hissed in pain when he smiled.

 _Okay,_ he motioned. _Nothing. Bad crowd._ It was the understatement of the year and Kyunghoon lied through his teeth because Heechul looked at him with genuine concern and he should have been uncomfortable but _summer, summer,_ his eyes were now filled by the warmth of his mother’s summers.  

He was warm and Kyunghoon was cold and so maybe he was being creepy, maybe the stranger would never want to see him again, but he signed. _Don’t jump. You can be okay_ —and stopped because his hands forgot words again so he pulled his phone and typed. When Heechul read it— _You’re too beautiful to die young_ —he was smiling despite the flash of pain and looked at Kyunghoon meaningfully.

 _I think so too._ Heechul typed, just beneath his message and continued, _I’m not here to jump._

  _I know._ He signed, because he did know that Heechul was lying. The ‘I’ve been there a thousand times before’ went unsaid. He reached out to touch Heechul’s hand, just to give comfort somehow and motioned, much later. _Your hands are cold._

They spent the whole afternoon together, both were eager to heal their aching souls with each other’s company—the one who understood and stayed—and when the stranger who Kyunghoon walked home to a house with a heavy door and loud hinges turned out to be the same Kim Heechul his sister told him the following winter, Kyunghoon knew he needed to see him again.

-

Heechul was in a way, a galaxy. He was vast, ever-changing and he got too many details that comprised his entity and Kyunghoon’s brain hurt a little. Heechul was loud, though his laugh was silent, but his personality seeped through the thickness of his clothes and he took Kyunghoon’s breath away. He was above and beyond his silence and Kyunghoon was in awe the minute Heechul shed his shyness and sadness.

He wondered if he too was shedding his sadness, since he couldn’t remember the blood and ice and yielding smoke anymore.

They spent more afternoons together, now the second evening and Kyunghoon knew friendships were not this complicated.

Heechul smiled and smiled and his eyes twinkled when they reached his favorite spot, a lane of cherry trees in the middle of hard walls and a brightly lit alleyway. Kyunghoon reached a branch and shook it with little effort. He watched as the flowers began to shower Heechul with its pinks and whites.

The blossoms were falling and Kyunghoon fell with them.

Heechul signed. _Talk._ His fingers caught some petals and he twirled it as he waited for Kyunghoon’s reply.

Kyunghoon laughed because he was confused. “But you won’t understand me,” he said, and he was surprised as to how cheery he sounded.

 _I can._ Heechul signed. Kyunghoon’s hand abruptly halted and Heechul was signing— _I just don’t talk. I can’t. But I hear you._

“But,” he said, his words failing him.

 _I can’t,_ Heechul continued. _After he passed away, I lost it._

“Who’s he?”

 _Father._ Heechul signed and it was enough for Kyunghoon to understand. “Okay, but I wished you would try.”

 _I’ve been trying._ Heechul replied and Kyunghoon could hear his frustration. All the petals were in the ground now.

A beat and then Heechul walked closer. _Say my name._

Kyunghoon’s ears were ringing and his palms were beginning to feel clammy as he held his gaze. It was just a name, but his heart was screaming _do it, do it_ and so he said—his voice thin and breathless, “Heechul.”

And Heechul tugged him closer, pulling him through the ends of his coat; Kyunghoon’s hands found its place on Heechul’s jaw, soft and strong just above his pulse. Heechul stared at him for a moment and that silence in between might have been what he was waiting for.

When Kyunghoon finally kissed him, he tasted spring.

 

_—_

 

 _귀가들을_ _수없는_ _것은_ _무엇인가_ _?_

 _What is an ear (_ _gwi) but cannot hear?_

_자귀._

_A hatchet. (ja-gwi)_

Someone once said to him that orphans make the best recruits—this someone was an orphan himself and now collecting same-fated individuals to make his own merry men living off suspicion and ill-cloaked brotherhood.

Lee Sangmin was a gang leader. Ironically, he looked pleasant, always smiling in a pitiful kind of way when he dealt with civilians. He liked his hats to match his coats, his shoes to be shiny. On serious days, his aura was clear with intent—the same when he forgot to take his prescribed medicines, all fraying nerves and nonsense fits.

Everyone in this town knew him and his spooky business, executed by brawns who called him _hyung_ with starstruck-eyes. Kyunghoon didn’t know how he could wander freely over the town, though being friends with the law people could make this possible. After all, this town was too small for people to manage other people’s troubles. Peace in disguise was better than having no peace at all.

And so Kyunghoon, having no background, no parents but left with a mute sister, found himself in a desperate need of something which Sangmin defined when he welcomed him to his group. It has been eight years of him being his yes man. He never questioned anything because thinking just made this real and Kyunghoon deemed this as a one, long nightmare. But then he grew older, no longer scrawny and his face no longer soft to be called pretty. He was as tall as Sangmin now, and with changed appearance went his indifference.

It has been eight years and the day when he first found Heechul on the bridge was the day he resurrected his conscience. But endings were never easy when there’s no blood involved with Sangmin. So, he let a couple of months pass, doing lighter and lighter work until Sangmin caught on. And when he told Sangmin he was done, the latter gave him a look that lasted for a heavy second before his knuckles met Kyunghoon’s cheek.

One punch without a word and a no has never been roaring as this before. But Kyunghoon was resolute, he’s always been, and so he punched him back just to say _yes, I will_.

He should have known better than to eliminate the possibility that Sangmin would strike back fairly—stupid, _stupid_ Kyunghoon.

-

 _가슴의_ _무게는_ _?_

_How much does the heart weigh?_

_4_ _근_ _(_ _두근_ _두근)_

_4 geun. (du-geun du-geun /pit-a-pat)_

The latest riddle Kyunghoon got from Heechul was about heart and weight and at first, he didn’t know the answer but his own heart spoke it pretty well. He grinned, his dimple showing as he folded the note and kept it into his breast pocket.

He needed that, he thought. Last night, he was at war with his mind and sleep never came to destroy the battlefield filled with the faces of men he killed. This was madness, him and Kim Heechul with his riddles. But this happiness that came with Heechul was worth it, for he finally found his brand of insanity, the one where he was a dreamer again, this time singing with riddles and poetry of Heechul’s face.

The face, which he found out that night, was painted by the destruction Kyunghoon recognized, his lips bloodied with heightened crimson.

And all he remembered was shaking him, asking _What happened? Who did this to you?_ with voice alarmingly loud and brittle. Inside he was answering, _This is because of me. He did this because of me,_ which he confirmed when Jisun cried, her tears as silent as her sob and her hands signing too fast for him to understand. Protected me. Men in black suits. Aggressiveness. Snow.

He must have shaken Heechul too hard, because Kyunghoon was a bastard and god damn it, this wasn’t supposed to happen, but Heechul was so still, his clothes dirty and his lips were still fucking bleeding.

When Heechul finally met his eyes, Kyunghoon knew his emotions were exposing him in explosions.

_You know them. You’re part of them._

And Kyunghoon couldn’t breathe, he was breaking because this darkness was his, should only be his but it clawed on Heechul, _his spring and summer_ , and—

A slap and Kyunghoon felt himself coming back to his skin.

It was Misun, asking him questions he should have answered but he dragged himself out of the house instead, out of Heechul’s pleading eyes and into his own-made winter made from smokes and shadows.

When he finally got to Sangmin, he was thinking he could have burned the world for Heechul. He would. He has a gun in his person, in his bed and still has knives and his knuckles. After all, he got nothing to lose now that he knew.

-

 Sometimes, the greatest gift one could ever receive is a person who loves, and despite knowing, stayed.

-

He came back to Heechul right after because Kyunghoon was a selfish person. He sneaked into the night, finding his feet alight as he slowly opened the door to Heechul’s room.

He found him sitting in silence, his knees tucked in his arms and Heechul’s eyes were bright against the dark as he looked up to see Kyunghoon. His bruised lips made him want to go back to Sangmin and inflict his greatest pain. The wind came hurling so Kyunghoon went inside to close the door.

“I will go if you want me to,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He dared to meet Heechul’s eyes because Kyunghoon needed to feel grounded somehow, needed someone to battle his darkness with him. His knuckles ached and his hands were probably still bleeding but the flesh could be repaired the way hearts don’t.

Heechul stayed unmoving and the silence stretched until Kyunghoon could hear the sound of his breathing. It was broken when Heechul slowly crawled to his made bed, tossing the blanket as an invitation.

Kyunghoon could feel the adrenaline wearing thin as he went to Heechul. They awkwardly lie and Kyunghoon tried to hide his hands away but Heechul curled close to him and reached them. Kyunghoon used to dread this kind of intimacy, used to think he would never be comfortable showing his scars to a living person, used to think he would never get a chance but Heechul was here, so Kyunghoon pulled him closer to listen to his heartbeat.

Heechul fingers were tapping against the back of his palm, drawing lines and shapes until it went to his chest and remained there. He tucked his head beneath Kyunghoon’s jaw and Kyunghoon felt something wet in his neck and realized that Heechul was crying.

The rain outside started to fall.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed between beats. “I couldn’t stay away from you.”

Heechul’s answer came with a shake of his head, and a kiss so quiet it cloaked Kyunghoon’s soul with a resounding thunder. The darkness stayed, as all of his nights, but Kyunghoon slept peacefully this time, no wars and no faces in his mind.

When Heechul woke up the next day, Kyunghoon was gone.

It was his jacket thrown in a corner that gave Heechul assurance that what happened last night wasn’t all in his head, and Kyunghoon did come to him like a dream.

-

_See me._

-

It was lightly snowing and Kyunghoon could feel the cold clinging as he took care of his things, his accounts and everything which needed signatures and personal confirmation. The day went by in a flash and all he could think about was how he was going to miss this town, but going away meant leaving the loneliness that lived with him here. The town was small enough for him and Sangmin to exist and so he’s leaving, taking his sister and Heechul to end his long nightmare.

Heechul might not even go with him—even then, he’d try to ensure his safety, at least. But he knew Heechul would do anything he would ask him, because Kyunghoon would do everything for him too. He was also itching to escape this place which has stolen not only his voice, but also his freedom. Misun was kind but her kindness made him feel fragile and Kyunghoon could feel Heechul’s strength longing to stretch its wings to a different place where he could face his mind and get his voice back again.

It was already dark when he noticed that his other phone was missing along with his jacket.

_Heechul._

It was the phone he used for his business with Sangmin and the thought of it near Heechul made him fret and his veins twisted. He kept telling himself it’s probably his paranoia and Heechul was okay, he was warm and having a good time with his sister as he ran back to Heechul’s house.

When Misun opened the door, she only nodded and gestured him to go inside, her eyes knowing and saying things she couldn’t say with her own mouth.

He bowed a little, his actions still hurried as he went inside to find Heechul. What he did find was his sister, her presence eased the pain a little, but she was dumbfounded when he asked where Heechul was. She pointed to his room but it was empty, save for the jacket on the floor.

His phone was missing.

 _Fuck._ He could feel his head swirling, his breath coming shorter. Jisun was signing but before he could look at Misun, he was out the door.

He could be near, could be just making an errand or having a walk to the bridge. Or he could be at their alleyway. Kyunghoon dashed, his heart was thumping a thousand times per minute as he took a turn.

And then he found Heechul. He found him on the ground and for a moment, Kyunghoon could only stare in horror as his brain processed what he was seeing—his eyes went to the blood seeping from Heechul’s stomach and Kyunghoon was robbed of every happy feeling he kept as he realized he came here too late. His hands started shaking badly and he was choking because this winter was fucking long and oh god, Heechul.

 _Please, please, please_ and he was crouching, waking Heechul up and searching his phone to call for an ambulance, anyone, because it was cold but Heechul’s blood was still warm on his hands. They were painting his shirt red as if saying his paranoia never failed him, _Is this proof, enough?_

“Heechul, I’m here,” he sobbed as he took Heechul closer and Heechul opened his eyes—they were alight and feverish and Kyunghoon’s tears were falling on Heechul’s face. “You’re okay, you’re okay. Heechul, please, _don’t_ —”

Heechul started coughing blood and he began crying too as he moved closer to Kyunghoon despite the pain. Kyunghoon’s sobs filled the silence of the night as he fervently prayed to gods he never prayed upon ever since the accident, begging and pleading to spare Heechul’s life and Kyunghoon’s already small heart. He couldn’t survive this _if—if—_

He was bawling like a child, like the younger Kyunghoon trapped between his parents’ dead bodies, wailing and wanting to refuse grief that finally enclosed his constricting chest. _Fuck, please, I can’t—Not him, not again,_ and Heechul’s weeping with him as his weak hand pressed something to him—a note, tinted with crimson and snow. When Kyunghoon read it, he bowed, his hands cradling Heechul’s face, the note tucked in between and started showering him kisses and tears as he rasped, _“Mine, too, Heechul. It’s yours.”_

Heechul tried to sign but Kyunghoon stopped him by holding his hands. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Heechul sighed and sighed some more, his breath getting shorter but then he muttered a groan, a letter, until it became Kyunghoon’s name.

“K-Kyunghoon-ah,” Heechul whispered, his voice strange and unsure. “Kyunghoon-ah…,” he repeated, this time, his name was more pronounced and Kyunghoon’s grief was too palpable, the stars wavered a little.

“Don’t do this,” He replied because Heechul’s voice was as beautiful as him. “I love you, Heechul. Stay with me, please.”

It was unfair, this ending, but the town was as stubborn as Kyunghoon it seemed and it wanted everything that were his and Kyunghoon couldn’t ask enough why it had to be him, why it had to be this painful. The night was supposed to end with him and Heechul waking up in another city, in a place where they could be happy without guilt, where the winter was not this cold and endless—where they could love each other in silence and in words.

 

_What is mine but only you can have?_

_—My heart._

_Saranghae, Min Kyunghoon._

 

And the heart that Kyunghoon gave in return died with Heechul that night.


	2. only fyi; will be deleted after

Hello! I decided to just edit the first part and make it just a one-shot instead of a two part story. Please go back to the first chapter to read the whole thing. xoxo Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> This is not beta-ed and so the grammar mistakes are all mine. Kindly send me a heads up if you see anything wrong (and bad!) Thank you. ♡


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